


A Fisherman's Good Luck

by lazylyz



Series: Fair Game Week 2020 [5]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort, Developing Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Swearing, ch 12 post series fix it, characters processing ch 12, fairgameweek2020, paralyzed!clover, post salem defeat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22887898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazylyz/pseuds/lazylyz
Summary: “Hook, Line, and Sinker Charter Services.” In the brief pause before the speaker could identify themselves, Qrow’s pacing came to an abrupt halt, mind already elsewhere, heart thundering in his ears. Just from the timbre of the man’s voice, the lighthearted mood he had been feeling sank like a rock to the pit of his stomach. He could see it now stretched before him, the endless expanse of white tundra, his hands covered in blood. He took a deep breath to steady himself, but then the receptionist finished their greeting, “This is Clover speaking. How can I help you?”Or in which Clover pulls a Jean Havoc and doesn’t die after being impaled.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Fair Game Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665622
Comments: 14
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know how spinal injuries work, and Harbinger is a huge fucking blade. Clover probably wouldn’t be paralyzed from the waist down, but this is fanfic so who cares.

Argus, a city Qrow never thought he would return to after everything with Salem was done with, was mild this time of year. He had been invited along with the kids while they visited family and caught up with friends. It’s how he found himself a much need vacation from the hustle and bustle of rebuilding and moving on from the cloud of misery that tended to follow him.

They had only been in Argus two days before the kids started throwing suggestions of things to do at them. Jaune had been the one to suggest fishing, and that Argus had an extensive sports fishing community. The only fishing Qrow had ever done was for survival and that had been because he was desperate for food with no other options.

And so, Qrow found himself pulling up the website of the fishing charter service Jaune had mentioned. A simple webpage, a photo of the charter service at the docs, and easy to find contact information has Qrow dialing the number before he can think about it. Pacing around his room with sure steps, he waited for the call to connect. There was a soft beep and the receptionist started with their greeting.

“Hook, Line, and Sinker Charter Services.” In the brief pause before the speaker could identify themselves, Qrow’s pacing came to an abrupt halt, mind already elsewhere, heart thundering in his ears. Just from the timbre of the man’s voice, the lighthearted mood he had been feeling sank like a rock to the pit of his stomach. He could see it now stretched before him, the endless expanse of white tundra, his hands covered in blood. He took a deep breath to steady himself, but then the receptionist finished their greeting, “This is Clover speaking. How can I help you?”

Qrow’s heart stopped, not sure if he had heard that right.

“What the fuck,” Qrow rasped past the lump in his throat.

An affronted snort followed quickly by loud clattering as if the person on the other side of the line had dropped their scroll. A few muffled swear words made it to Qrow’s ear, but then there was a moment of silence before Qrow heard his name. He never gave the person his name.

“Qrow?” The voice asked again in a panic-stricken tone. “Are you still there?”

This, this was the voice that haunted him on his worst nights. An echo of past mistakes and regrets he thought he would carry to his grave. Yet here, his voice called out to him in a manner he never again thought possible.

“Clover,” Qrow croaked out just managing to unstick his vocal cords. “Tell me I’m not hearing things.”

Clover’s deep chuckle reverberated in his ear sending a rush down his spine and brought forth all the times they played cards where Qrow, miserable from endless losses, still asked for rematch after rematch purely for the enjoyment of his company. His hands shook as he waited for Clover to verify his own sanity.

“No, you’re not hearing things. It’s really me,” Clover responded. His warm tone captivating Qrow’s senses and his vision slid out of focus as his ears strained to listen.

“How?’ Qrow asked, voice faint to his own ears.

Clover sighed on the other side of the line, “It’s a bit of a long story, but I can give you the condensed version if you want.”

“Yeah,” he heard himself answer. He clutched at the edge of his shirt desperate for something to ground himself to. 

“Okay.” And then, Clover started with what Qrow knew. He was dead when help arrived. The scene that Qrow would always carry with him, a bloody brooch in the snow beside a still body as the sun rose behind him. Qrow had spent hours polishing that brooch. His brooch.

“But you’re alive,” Qrow felt himself say. Slipping a hand in his pocket, he felt the warm metal against his fingers. He rubbed a thumb over the ridges of the four-leafed clover. A habit he picked up when trying to ease his anxiety.

“Apparently the cold slowed the blood loss enough that they cauterized the wound and jumpstarted my heart in the medivac,” Clover continued, “I was touch and go for a while, and when they got back to Atlas, they put me into a coma. Many extensive operations later, and a discharge from the military, here I am, mostly in one piece.”

_Mostly one piece._

The sudden urge to see him washed over Qrow. He needed to see with his own eyes. He needed to verify that Clover was alive and well. If anything, to quell the panic bubbling inside him.

“I’m coming over right now,” Qrow stated.

“I’m in Argus, Qrow. That’s far away.”

“I know that! Why the hell do you think I called a fishing charter in the first place?” Qrow asked his voice moving up an octave to match his hysterical state. “I didn’t know you were even alive!”

“You’re here… in Argus?’ Clover asked.

The hopeful lilt drove Qrow to move. He stumbled about his room trying to find shoes. Distracted in his haste, his toe caught the edge of the nightstand. He crouched to clutch at his toe trying to ease the throbbing pain that had erupted.

“Goddamnit, fuck.”

“Qrow?” The faint call of his name where he dropped the scroll. “Qrow, are you okay?”

Qrow grumbled to himself as a wave of nausea washed over him. He grit his teeth. Picking up the scroll, he replied, “Yes, I’m fine, just stubbed my toe. I’m in Argus. The kids...” He tried to think of an easy explanation, but that would take too long. “Just… tell me where you-”

“I’m at the shop,” Clover cut him off. “We were just closing up for the day when you called.”

“Good.” Qrow sucked in a shallow breath and all that came out was a wheeze. Words wouldn’t form since his brain latched on only the need to get to Clover. Qrow pushed through the pain and propped his scroll between his cheek and shoulder. He put his shoes on with great haste and said, “Don’t go anywhere. I’m headed over.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Clover replied softy.

The scroll beeped and the call ended. Qrow sat in the silence. There was so much to process, but his mind couldn’t focus. Everything he had known and carried with him had just changed. He didn’t know what to make of it. Putting all those thoughts aside, he had a task: get to Clover.

The house was quiet when he descended the stairs since everyone was already busy with their own evening plans. It made for an easy escape, though he’s sure he’ll get questions when he gets back considering he told them he wanted to do absolutely nothing.

Qrow caught a trolly as it headed down the hill, and the rest of the trip across the city was a blur. Suddenly, the wharf stretched out before him, with the trolling boats docked nearby and the larger crafts moored in the distance. Along the edge of the docks stood a row of shops weathered by the harsh seasons but standing tall, nevertheless.

Qrow spotted the familiar signage from the website on one of the buildings in the middle. It hung over a door and read: _Hook, Line, and Sinker Charter Services._ A fishing line swirled through each of the words leading to a hook very reminiscent to the blade on Clover’s weapon. Underneath the name in smaller print read: _we’ll show you a reel good time._

Qrow couldn’t help the weak broken laugh but fell silent as the door opened. After all these years, Qrow never thought he would see those bright green eyes, holding the same intensity as he so vividly remembered. He took in the broad shoulders and muscled arms that were bare to a faded green sleeveless shirt with the description _Good Things Come to Those Who Bait_ with the image of a worm attached to a fishing hook behind the text.

“Didn’t I tell you I was lucky,” Clover said with the same cocky nature Qrow had started to grow fond of during their missions together. He pushed himself forward to where Qrow stood. The metallic wheelchair he sat in was simple in design for someone who had been high up in the Atlas Military.

Qrow stood there frozen, not knowing what to do. The shaking in his hands wouldn’t subside. His gaze fixated on Clover’s chest where he last saw his own blade rending flesh and bone, but Clover was there, looking up at him with sincerity and openness he dreamed about less and less.

“It’s me, Qrow. It’s really me.” Clover pulled at his shirt, lifting until Qrow could make out the edge of the twisted scar. Qrow’s hands shot out, grasping at the edge of Clover’s shirt and stopping him from revealing the entire scar.

“I can’t,” Qrow gasped out. “Not yet.”

Clover covered Qrow’s hands with his own. The warmth that radiated through the contact settled the unease in Qrow. The living, breathing, warmth of Clover was within reach, not dead, still, and cold as it had been on the tundra. Qrow let go of Clover’s shirt, and Clover dropped his hands. He took a step back and studied Clover.

“Shit, you’re alive,” Qrow said. He could feel tears welling at the corners of his eyes. Looking away, he blinked heavily to clear them. He didn’t think seeing him would hit him this hard.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Clover said. He leaned forward to catch Qrow’s gaze. Qrow couldn’t help but return the look. His eyes were just as he remembered, bright and always looking past the front Qrow so carefully constructed.

“Do you know how many times I’ve played that night over in my head?” Qrow asked in a hushed tone, not wanting to give voice to those thoughts that had plagued him.

“Thousands, as have I,” Clover answered. “It wasn’t your fault, Qrow. When it all happened, I thought I would never get the chance to…” Clover rubbed at the corner of his jaw, deliberating over what to say. “I just wanted you to know that I didn’t blame you.”

“If I hadn’t-”

“My decision cost me my life, Qrow, and I’m not going to… It wasn’t just you and your semblance. I was the one who wouldn’t listen, following orders like a damn robot. For fuck's sake, even Penny, the actual robot, was more human than me. I put my own conscience aside for what Ironwood wanted…” Clover trailed off with thin frown marring his usually jovial features. He glared at Qrow, and Qrow glared right back.

“That’s why I always disliked you military types,” Qrow stated, vehemently. The words were out before he could stop himself. He didn’t want a fight, but that always seemed to follow him wherever he went. “Never could think for yourselves.” 

The confidant posture Clover carried himself with disappeared in an instant, his shoulders hunching down, the smile, which Qrow knew didn’t reach his eyes, fell to a frown, and before him sat a man defeated and broken with years of regrets weighing on him. Qrow didn’t know what hurt more, seeing someone who was once so full of life and confidence brought low, or that it was his own words that caused such a change.

“Well then it’s a good thing I’m not military anymore,” Clover said, softly.

“I didn’t mean…”

“Qrow.” Clover held up a hand, stopping Qrow’s thoughts in their tracks. “You’ve always been one to speak your mind, and I always kind of figured you’d be the one to call me out on all of it.”

“Yeah?”

Clover nodded, and Qrow found he couldn’t look away. He felt like he was seeing Clover for the first time. Not as someone so wrapped up in other people’s standards, but his own. A man resigned to his fate of bearing the consequences of his decisions whether as a punishment or something else, Qrow didn’t know.

“Wish I had done it sooner,” Qrow said, glancing off to the side as if it could break the illusion of the man before him and bring back the confident air that had captivated him in the beginning. Qrow cast his gaze to the ground, knowing Clover watched him intently.

“I wouldn’t have listened to you,” Clover reasoned. “It would have been a thanks but no thanks kind of situation.”

“Then you shouldn’t blame yourself either,” Qrow said, slowly while thinking over Clover’s words, knowing he wasn’t the only one carrying the weight of that night. “What’s done is done. The only thing you can do now is move forward.”

Clover was silent, and Qrow looked back up to find glassy eyes and a sad twist at the corner of Clover’s mouth. Qrow knew that look, but he was damned at how to fix it; he only ever brought pain.

“Do you remember what Robyn said when we were the middle of fighting?” Clover asked slowly. It was clear he was fishing for something, and Qrow would play along. He could give the man that much.

Qrow thought back on those moments he had tried so hard to move past. The look on Clover’s face when he got the orders to arrest him. Robyn’s quick aggression to defend him. His own unwillingness to comply, something that had been ingrained in him since childhood. Her words about after, later, when this was all said and done.

_Hug it out after._

Qrow let out a wet laugh.

“I could really use one of those right now,” Clover said, opening his arms wide. Qrow rolled his eyes at the action but was unable to hide the faint smirk. Clover grinned wide at him. “I know it’s awkward to hug someone in a wheelchair, but you’re just going to have to make do.”

Qrow snorted and crouched down. Clover gripped the front of his vest and pulled him in before he could steady himself. His knee jammed into the ground between Clover's legs and he let out a pained grunt. Clover paid no mind and only tightened his arms around him. A secure warmth filled Qrow and he let out a shuddering breath, relaxing into the hug. Clover hummed in response, pulling Qrow in tighter and hooking his chin over Qrow’s shoulder.

Qrow let his eyes drift closed and he took a deep breath in, letting Clover’s scent and warmth surround him. The comfort didn’t last long though, as a sharp pain shot through Qrow’s leg. He knew he would have difficulty getting up from this position.

“Alright, boy scout. As nice as this is, my knees aren’t like they used to be,” Qrow said with a final pat to Clover’s shoulder. He pushed himself up off the ground.

“What are you fifty now?” Clover teased, letting his arms fall back to his lap. A soft smile supplanting the forlorn look.

“I’m not that old yet,” Qrow scoffed, taking a step back and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, you are certainly graying like it.”

Qrow grimaced. Out of habit, his fingers brushed against the warm metal of Clover’s brooch.

“It looks good on you, Qrow.”

Qrow would have usually blushed at the compliment, but he was distracted. He pulled the brooch from his pocket, the shiny metal glinting in the setting sun. A soft gasp from Clover drew his attention. His eyebrows were high on his forehead and his mouth hung open.

“You kept it,” Clover said in disbelief. Qrow didn’t know if it was just about the pin itself or the meaning behind it that had Clover flabbergasted.

“Yeah.” Qrow scratched at the back of his neck. “Didn't think you'd be needing it anymore.”

“Well, I can't fault you for that.”

“Here,” Qrow offered the pin to Clover with an open hand. Clover slowly reached out, but when his hands got to Qrow’s, he closed Qrow’s fingers back around it and pushed it back to Qrow.

“Keep it. I don’t really need it anymore,”

“What? Did you use up all your luck?” Qrow joked, pocketing the brooch.

“No, I just have a feeling it’s been in better hands with you,” Clover said with such sincerity, that Qrow didn’t know how to respond. They both watched each other awkwardly, eyes flitting back and forth, not sure if they were allowed to take in their fill or if it would be impolite to stare at the years that had passed them both by.

Clover cleared his throat and quickly glanced back over his shoulder. When he turned back to Qrow his eyes darted around before landing on a spot just past Qrow’s shoulder. He was nervous.

“Um, my aunt and uncle have already left for the day. If you let me lock up, we can go back to my place to catch up?”

_Oh._

“I’d like that, lucky charm,” Qrow said. “I’d like that a lot.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clover and Qrow play cards and catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between two moves and my job starting back up a month sooner than expected, I’ve had zero time to write, so have this wip I haven’t worked on since fgw.

Qrow was in a daze. The cards in his hands held no meaning since the shock of finding Clover still clung to his being. After their cathartic reunion at the docks, Clover had invited Qrow over to his place to catch up. The trek was short, and it unsettled Qrow how easily they fell in beside each other.

The years they spent not knowing if the other’s fate were washed away in the blink of an eye, and memories of long days side by side out on missions replaced them. Even with the familiarity, Qrow wasn’t sure how to act around the man. They were both different now with the obvious of Clover being wheelchair-bound. His posture still held remnants of his military history, but his smile was not as broad as Qrow remembered, and his hair had grown longer, curling and sun-bleached at the ends. A smattering of freckles dusted his cheeks as well, and Qrow had a hard time focusing on his footfalls and not the changed man beside him.

He was thankful Clover’s place was just around the corner that he didn’t have to dwell too long on all the changes, and, before he knew it he was in a quaint apartment at a small table with a hand of cards being dealt to him. Sitting across from Clover felt surreal. Clover’s gentle actions showed hints of their easy comradery before their inventible falling out, but Qrow knew such things wouldn’t be swept under the rug that easily, and he was reticent to bring anything up.

“So,” Clover said, placing his cards down. He chuckled as Qrow, noting the clear advantage the usually lucky man had, frowned, and let out a frustrated sigh. “What have you been getting up to?”

Qrow looked back up at him, catching the trepidation behind the very open-ended question. “Ah, well, mostly watching after the kids,” he said, not really knowing where else to start since so much had happened in the years following Salem’s reckoning.

“Kids?” Clover asked his brows raise in shock. “Didn’t take you for having your own.”

Qrow flushed at the implication and waved a hand as if brushing aside the comment, “No, no, no. N-Not mine. _The_ kids. I still call them that even though they’ve all grown up by now and started their own families. I mean, they all call me their uncle, so it’s only right I get to call them kids. They are still so young, after all.”

The confusion cleared after their slight misunderstanding, and Clover sat forward, resting his chin in his hand, the card game momentarily forgotten between them. “That’s right, the kids. How are they doing?”

Qrow chuckled, a smirk spreading across his features as his thoughts went to the crazy group currently housed just down the road.

“Blake and Yang got married, what was it?” he said, pausing to count out on his fingers. “Three years ago, now. They just had a baby several months ago. Well, they adopted. He’s cute. A little cat Faunus whose mother died in childbirth. The kid ended up in an orphanage around the time Blake and Yang were looking, so everything worked out really well.”

“They were attached at the hip in Atlas if I remember correctly,” Clover said, eyes focused back on the cards as he dealt a new hand.

Qrow hummed in response, picking up the cards and flicking the corners before continuing, “Ren and Nora got married too, but they’ve got no kids. Weiss and Jaune just got together.” He paused, fanning the cards out and looking over his hand before selecting from the draw pile and adding it to the cards in his hand. “It’s been a long time coming for those two, and I think with things settling down, it’s giving them both opportunities to do things they didn’t think they would get too.”

“And Ruby?”

“Ruby.” Qrow rolled his eyes, feeling the exasperation well from deep within. He looked over his hand one last time before selecting a card to discard. “Don’t get me started.”

He placed the card down, and Clover’s eyes lit up as he swiftly nabbed the unwanted card. “She always seemed to be, hm, what’s the word, capricious?”

“Chaos,” Qrow answered with a groan. “She and Oscar have been traveling a lot, helping out where they can.”

“They dating?”

“No, I don’t think they’re too interested in all that. I think her words were ‘platonic soulmates’. What they are, though, are idiots. Rambunctious, high energy, idiots. They get into all sorts of trouble.”

“Sounds like you shadow them a lot.”

“Frequently enough to know that they should not be left to their own devices.”

Clover laughed but didn’t press Qrow for more. They enjoyed the quiet that fell between them as Clover sorted through his cards. With all the talk of past relationships come to fruition, Qrow let his mind drift back to Atlas, the soft conversations in the back of transport trucks, the terrible luck puns and jokes they traded back and forth, and the flirty winks and veritable showboating Clover continually shot Qrow’s way. He sighed, knowing all of that was no more.

“So, what about you, lucky charm?” Qrow asked, pulling himself from the past. Clover made a questioning noise of acknowledgment and waited for Qrow to continue. “What have you been up to?”

Clover glanced up from his hand. His brow quirked, and he grabbed a card from his hand, placing it down on the board. “Well, I’ve only been here about a year.”

“Only a year? And before that?”

“Atlas.” Clover sighed. A bone-weary, tired exasperation that Qrow knew all too well when it came to the once city in the sky.

“Sounds like there’s a lot there,” Qrow said. He grimaced inwardly, not wanting to push for information especially when they were just catching up. He didn’t feel like he was allowed, not after the way they parted.

“Yeah, Atlas has been, uh,” Clover paused, glancing to the side before starting on a different tangent. “Well, you know how Atlas is…” he trailed off, shoulders curling in, eyes cast down to the cards in his hand. When he spoke again, Qrow could hear the bite behind his words, cutting and short, “They really didn’t like the fact that their perfect soldier boy was broken.”

“Ah. Atlas at its finest then?”

Clover chuckled darkly. “You have no idea.”

“But here in Argus?”

“Eh, it has its ups and downs. I’ve been helping my aunt and uncle with their shop, so at least my time is occupied with something other than physical therapy or the like.”

“Fishing, who would have thought,” Qrow said as images of the sturdy fishing rod of a weapon Clover used all those years ago flashed through his mind.

Clover let out a full belly laugh. “Hey, don’t act surprised. Clearly, fishing was something of importance to me.”

“I figured it was ice fishing.”

“I mean, I did do that, but my family’s roots are here in Argus.”

“Your parents then?”

Clover paused, “Uh no, they passed away when I was young, so just the extended family.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that,” Qrow said, not knowing how else to offer condolences without feeling like it was a flat platitude. He felt like he was learning more about Clover in one short afternoon than he had the entire time they had been in Atlas. 

They never touched on family and past histories other than what Ironwood had filled them in on about each other when they became partners. It was something Qrow had been thankful for at the time but then later on regretted. There had been something between them, or rather the start of something, and Qrow tried not to dwell on that fact as it was a surefire way to make him miserable.

“I’m glad we’re getting the chance to catch up. I, uh, I needed this,” Clover said as he watched Qrow draw from the stack.

When Qrow looked back up, he caught a vulnerable look Clover was giving him. Qrow figured he had something else to say, so he waited him out, sorting through the cards in his hand.

“I had wanted to reach out,” Clover said, softly. “But I-I didn’t have your contact info after everything that happened at Atlas. A few higher-ups still have it out for you since you broke out, and I don’t know if I used that as an excuse not to get in touch or just-“

“Clover, don’t worry about it. I didn’t even know you were alive till an hour ago.” The grimace on Clover’s face. “I’m not blaming you.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to, to contact you,” he said, eyes cast to the side, not looking at Qrow. “Or at least, I don’t know, reach out in some way.”

“We didn’t exactly leave on the best note,” Qrow said, placing down his discard. They momentarily held eye contact before Clover looked away. In the quiet, Qrow sorted through his cards, trying to decide which one to get rid of.

“You were there in the end?” Clover asked, the topic catching Qrow off guard.

He looked across the table and asked, “Bringing the relics together at Beacon?” Clover nodded in affirmation, giving Qrow a chance to gather his thoughts. “Yeah, it was… if you thought Atlas was bad, Beacon the second time around was worse.”

“I can only imagine.”

“I was knocked out before everything went down with the gods, though. When Ruby tried to explain it to me, it just became more confusing. All I know is, Oscar has his own life with his own soul and body, the brothers bound Salem and Oz together and just took her with them when they left again, and, for some reason, Oscar still has remnants of Oz’s magic, but it’s dwindling.”

“Damn,” Clover said, blinking past the onslaught of information.

Qrow let out a stilted laugh. “Yeah, I’m just happy the kids all got out relatively unscathed.” He paused, thinking back to the kids at the house he left without two words of where he was going. “They would probably be ecstatic to see you.”

“Ehh,” Clover said, hesitantly. “I-I don’t know. It’s been so long. I don’t really- we didn’t really.”

“Clover, they’re not going to hold what happened back in Atlas against you,” Qrow said as Clover rubbed at the back of his neck. Qrow knew the sentiment. He had felt that way for years when he struggled with his semblance. “Besides, we rented a massive house, having one extra for dinner isn’t going to throw things off.”

He finally picked a card from his hand and placed it on the board.

“Fine, it’s settled then,” Clover said, a smile spreading across his face. He grabbed Qrow’s discard, sliding into place in his had before he set several melds of cards down. He flipped the last card down on the board and said, “Gin.”

Qrow cursed, looking at the unmatched cards in his hands. “I should have known better than to hang on to all this deadwood.”

Clover grinned, resting his chin in his hand.

“Dinner sounds nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are totally old men playing gin rummy if you wanted to know.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to look up fishing puns for this because I’m terrible at making them. Also, I really liked where this went and I might have ideas for future things, but I have other wips I left hanging do to fairgameweek, so don’t expect fast updates.


End file.
